Page 80 of Spell Ya Later
“You haven’t allowed your magic to run rampant. Mom has suppressed it in us for years. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve never really had any accidental magic.”
She nods, but her expression hasn’t cleared. I don’t know if there’s anything I can truly say to help her feel better, so I say nothing at all.
Grandma opens the shop door and ushers us all inside. She flutters around, lighting candles and collecting items as the rest of us stand in the doorway allowing her to do as she pleases. I think we’re all too scared to get in her way.
“Come, come!” Grandma directs us to the middle of the circle she’s created. She positions us in a little square. “North, south, east, and west. Yes.”
“One guess as to who’s the Wicked Witch of the West,” Laura mumbles under her breath.
I don’t think I want to know if it’s me or Mom.
“Unhelpful, Laura.” Grandma’s gaze is sharp, brokering no argument. “Join hands and open your mind. Allow magic to flow through you freely.”
It starts as a gentle breeze, flowing over us in a warm wave. It slowly morphs into the scent of seawater, salt heavy in the air, then the smell of earth. Trees and flowers so potent that I would swear we were in a forest.
It burns away in a crackling fire that heats me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.
It’s comforting and strange, natural and unexpected. Each element, each part of us morphing together to wrap us in the thing that makes us special and binds us.
Pure magic.
“We ask the women of our line to protect and strengthen us this evening as we defend our own. Noah is one of ours, and we refuse to lose him. Stand with us,” Grandma says, the words muted as the room has gotten smoky and hazy in the candlelight.
The scent of approval is sweet and heady. It’s like hundreds of hands are helping keep me standing. Generations of witches that came before are with me.
“Thank you,” Grandma says, a gentle smile on her face. It’s the first smile I’ve seen from her in a while. “Sisters, we thank you for your blessing. And we close our circle.”
“Let’s eat some lunch and rest. We’ll leave at sundown,” Mom says.
Laura scoffs. “Don’t know what a bunch of dead bitches are going to do for us, but whatever.”
“Laura.” Grandma’s voice booms across the room, bouncing off the bookshelves. “I will not have you disrespecting your ancestors in my presence.”
“Grandma, she doesn’t know. We haven’t taught her,” I quietly interject. Despite where our relationship is right now, I can’t help the protective sisterly nature.
Grandma’s stormy face mellows as Laura’s darkens.
“I don’t need your help,” Laura hisses.
For the first time, it feels like Grandma, Mom, and I are on one side and Laura is on the other. And I can’t understand how it has happened.
Time movesat a snail’s pace. I barely taste my lunch despite it coming from the literal best sandwich shop in the country. The chatter of my family—Mom and Grandma, mostly—hangs above my head like the candles Grandma has bewitched to float around us.
I’m glued to the corner of the room in one of the poofy armchairs next to the bookshelves. It’s situated in front of the window overlooking the town.
People walk around as if it’s just another normal day. As if my person wasn’t kidnapped by a literal crazy warlock with a horde of daemons.
“I know how you feel.” Mom’s voice startles me out of my daydreams.
I sigh, stretching out my sore legs. They’ve been underneath me for who knows how long now. “That doesn’t help. But you probably are the only person who actually gets it, aren’t you?”
“I never wanted this for you. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but my own daughter? It’s my worst nightmare.”
I hold my tongue. It would be so easy to attack her, to blame her. To tell her that if she had justtalkedto me, there’s a high chance we wouldn’t be in this situation. That Noah wouldn’t be in this situation.
But there’s an ache in her voice, a pain in her eyes, that I know is reflected in my own. I can’t kick her when she’s down.
I gesture to the opposite armchair instead. “How do you breathe each day?”
